


make your heart beat like a drum

by MissSugarPlum



Series: you're just a line in a song [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Not beta-read, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/pseuds/MissSugarPlum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry blinks his eyes open blearily, waking up to the pressing fact that he is entirely too warm and needing to do something about it. It takes him a long moment, longer than he will ever be okay with admitting, to realize that the reason he is uncomfortably warm is because there is another body next to his, snuggled up and clinging to him like a limpet.</p><p>It takes him even longer to realize that the body next to his belongs to Leonard Snart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make your heart beat like a drum

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at an impasse with the other stuff I've been working on, so I figured I'd transfer the drabbles and prompt fills from tumblr on over here, for those who can't or don't want to see them over there. (Yes, there will be more; I've got seven or eight of them on my drive now, just waiting to be uploaded. Don't try containing your excitement, please.)
> 
> This was for the anon who prompted either "You're really soft" or "I don't wanna get up - you're comfy". I decided to blend the two, because why not?
> 
>  
> 
> **Edit: translated into[Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3866479/10073406#part_content), because [Just_Irene](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Irene/pseuds/Just_Irene) loves to spoil me! Thank you so much!**
> 
>  
> 
> (Title from Kesha's Your Love Is My Drug)

Barry blinks his eyes open blearily, waking up to the pressing fact that he is entirely too warm and needing to do something about it. It takes him a long moment, longer than he will ever be okay with admitting, to realize that the reason he is uncomfortably warm is because there is another body next to his, snuggled up and clinging to him like a limpet.

 

It takes him even longer to realize that the body next to his belongs to Leonard Snart.

 

He freezes, tenses up, because the last thing he remembers is certainly not sleeping with Captain Cold, legs tangled and chests pressed together on the ratty couch in his new apartment.

 

He runs his tongue across the front of his teeth, nose wrinkling at the grime there, wonders at the fuzzy feeling in the back of his head—

 

—and remembers snippets of the previous night, running out on patrol, coming across a man who had taken to calling himself The Top, of all things (he especially remembers Cisco fuming at the terrible name for what felt like _hours_ ), remembers running, almost literally, into Golden Glider, who of all the strange things _helped him_ when she realized who the man he was chasing was (because _of course_ Roscoe Dillon happened to be her Crazy Ex, capitals and all), and he remembers being so exhausted by the time he finally opened his door at half past three in the morning that he wasn’t even surprised to find Snart the Elder perched on the edge of the dinky coffee table in his living room.

 

He remembers Snart’s carefully concealed worry, both for his sister and for Barry (and wasn’t that a strange thing for him to process, _Captain Cold_ worried about the _Flash_?), he remembers putting a restraining hand on Snart’s arm, remembers talking him down from going out to STAR Labs, where they were keeping Dillon for the night before transferring him to Iron Heights, and either punching his lights out or icing him with the cold gun (he kept switching back and forth between the two, and Barry remembers being torn between keeping Len out of trouble and letting him go, actually holding Dillon down for him).

 

Oh. They must have fallen asleep together on the couch, yawning against each other in the early morning light.

 

Barry pushes past the tidal wave of exhaustion still crashing over him, pushes ineffectually at the shoulder pressing into his. “Snart.”

 

No response, other than a deep sigh.

 

“Snart. Lenny. _Len_.” Not that Barry’s annoyed—not really—but the man’s alias is Captain Cold, _why_ is he so ridiculously warm?

 

“Shhhhh,” Len mumbles, and—did he really just _shush_ Barry? “Don’ wanna get up. Comfy.”

 

Barry would laugh—who knew Leonard Snart was such a bedhead?—if not for the fact that Len really is kind of heavy and half on top of him. “Snart, seriously. Get off.”

 

“No. Tired.” Len’s eyes stay stubbornly shut, and his arms around Barry’s waist and neck tighten in response. Barry tries (and fails) not to shiver at the sensation of Len’s blunt nails scraping lightly against his skin.

 

“Go sleep somewhere else.”

 

“Already sleeping here. Shhh.”

 

Barry pushes once more, then groans when Len doesn’t even budge a single inch, resigned to being Len’s full-body pillow for the foreseeable future. “How the hell are you not overheating?” he asks, mostly conversationally. He’s still tired enough that he’s okay with being wrapped up like this, comfortably tucked into the back of the couch and away from the world.

 

(If he was more awake, he’d be questioning his own judgment. But he’s very carefully not thinking of that now.)

 

“Heat is good,” Len mutters, and Barry yelps when he presses his face to his collarbone, inhaling deeply.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Your skin is so soft,” he rumbles, exhaling with a low hum. “How are you so soft?”

 

Barry huffs, half-exasperated and half-amused despite himself, and takes note interestedly when Len shudders at the breath blown across his ear. “Constant cellular regeneration,” he explains.

 

“S’nice.”

 

“Okay, Len. Whatever you say.”

 

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re humoring me, Barry,” Len says, and for all that he still sounds on the verge of falling asleep, Barry knows just how alert that sharp mind can be. “Sleep. Four more hours. We’ll pick this back up after.”

 

“And what, exactly, are we—” Barry cuts himself off with a strangled groan when Len licks a stripe across his collarbone, over the hollow in his throat and up across his Adam’s apple. “Oh,” he breathes, shudders out a quick vibration, and Len chuckles softly.

  
“Sleep.” He curls back into Barry, snug against him, and despite the sudden flood of adrenaline and lust churning in his stomach, Barry closes his eyes and lets sleep claim him once more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my [tumblr](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com/post/134304260258/youre-really-soft-or-i-dont-wanna-get-up).


End file.
